


A Merry Ending

by Slave2Writing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Strap-On, Wedding, christmas themed smut, honeymoon sex, mentions of Leopold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 00:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9048865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slave2Writing/pseuds/Slave2Writing
Summary: In an effort not to ruin Christmas for the rest of their family, Emma and Regina keep quiet about their impending divorce.





	1. The Good Bride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This story is dedicated to ReginaTheCat, who’s been an amazing friend, my co-writer, cheerleader and extremely patient cooking tutor. I hope you enjoy, I tried to put in as much angst as I could possibly stomach. I love you (like an embarrassing amount, but shut up, don’t mention it), and Merry Christmas!
> 
> And to my readers, Happy Chanukah and Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays to all!

They were married in the snow, a white gown dragging across the ice, Emma waiting for her bride in the middle of the frozen lake, the force of her giddy smile causing her stretched cheeks to burn red hot. The trees were dead; silent corpses swaying in the wind, lining the edges of the oval mirror the crowd was balanced upon, their distorted reflections shivering beneath the smooth, frosted surface. The moonlight stroked raven tresses and blonde curls, the latter tumbling over the savior’s strong shoulders, crowned with a gentle braid her mother had woven earlier that night, when the sun was just sinking and the moon was edging through powder white clouds, hanging suspended in the black ocean sky washing over the small town.

 

“ _This is so crazy_ ,” Emma’s breathy laugh was released in a burst of steam puffing out of her lungs, and the entire party laughed, watching how the happiness visibly swelled inside their beloved princess at their former tormentor’s approach.

 

Kissing their son on the cheek, Regina unfurled her hand from his arm, and moved forward to join the savior in the middle of the frozen lake, magic preventing the heels of her white boots from shattering the ice beneath the flowing dress. The additional inches allowed her to gaze evenly upon her bride, her own lips quirking at the way a giddiness seemed to overtake the younger woman.

 

“ _Hey_ ,” Emma grinned at her, jewel flecks in her eyes causing them to sparkle, lifting up her hands, palms raised upwards, and beaming so bright when only the briefest hesitation passed before Regina was lowering her own bare palms right on top.

 

A rush of warmth went through them both, like fire licking a warpath through their bloodstream. “ _Hey_ ,” Regina whispered back, relaxed and feeling… okay about what they were about to do. This was already better than her first wedding; Emma was looking at her, couldn’t stop looking at her, was drinking in all the colors and contours of her face, and it was more than a little bit flattering.

 

Regina squeezed the savior’s hands, bestowing affection because she knew it would make her bride smile. These little things that were unasked of her were so easy to give when it was Emma. It felt like scraping bark off a tree; it didn’t hurt her, though she was still sharply aware she was losing something.

 

Recently ordained through the wonders of the internet, Archibald Hopper stood before them, clearing his throat and waiting for both the shivering audience to stop their tittering and for Emma to get a grip on herself, squeezing Regina’s hands back and looking like she was choking on an effort not to break down in giggles.

 

An indulgent smile softened the brunette’s face, stiffened cheeks pinched by the cold. “Give her a moment,” She drawled and everyone laughed again, enjoying the sheriff’s lack of composure.

 

“ _Sorry, sorry!_ ” Emma struggled to breathe, hunched over a little and laughing again, prompting everyone else to keep laughing, the dark woods echoing with the sound, the savior’s happiness bouncing across the frozen lake and through it all, Regina held on and patiently waited, silently marveling at how excited the woman was to marry her.

 

Finally, when the snowflakes began to fall, and Leroy loudly speculated they’d be buried in it if the princess didn’t get her act together, Emma took a deep breath and fully straightened up, only a couple more shaky giggles escaping her.

 

" _Ready?_ " Regina squeezed her hands again, watching how it made the pleasure wash over her bride’s cheeks again.

 

At the savior’s nod, Archie cleared his throat, and the audience fell quiet, a hush sweeping across the lake. Even the birds knew not to utter a sound, in reverence to their queen and her daughter. “We are gathered here today…”

 

During the short speech, her mind wandered, and when it was time for them to exchange their vows, Regina watched flushed pink lips move without registering any of the sounds, taking her cue from the lack of movement that it was her turn to recite. Muscle memory formed the syllables and pushed them out, each word causing more and more happiness to swell up inside the savior.

 

“ _I love you_ ,” She heard herself say, the truth pushing through the buzzing in her ears, and abruptly she was tearing up, knowing the agony she was condemning Emma to, and too selfish and too stupidly hopeful to tear herself away.

 

The savior teetered forward a little, looking like she wanted nothing more than to take Regina in her arms and kiss her until the winter thawed and spring bloomed, the ice cracking open and warm water sucking them deep below the surface, but Archie emitted a warning _cough_ and the blonde sheepishly straightened up again, superstitious enough to follow the rules of the wedding in an effort not to jinx their marriage.

 

“Do you, Emma - ”

 

“Yes.”

 

Archie frowned at her. “I’m not finished. Do you, Emma Swan, take Regina Mi - ”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Emma, please.” He sighed, beginning again. “Do you take Regina Mills to be your lawfully wedded wife? To - ”

 

“Ye - oh, sorry.”

 

“To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” He blinked up from his book when only an uncertain silence greeted him, Emma nibbling on her bottom lip, looking at him while Regina looked at her, still teary eyed but with growing amusement lighting up her dark features. “You may speak now.”

 

“I do!” Emma turned back to her bride, smiling wide, brimming with love and adoration. “I definitely do.”

 

“ _So, is that a yes, then?_ ” Regina teased her, voice low, and bit down on her quick smile when Emma mouthed _asshole_ at her, eyes growing impossibly brighter.

 

Their son moved forward with the first ring, offering it to Emma who picked it up, handling it with nervous care. She’d made Henry rehearse with her every day for the past week, paranoid she’d fumble the ring and be forced to watch it bounce on the ice, skidding away from them. The practice paid off, she watched with pride as it slid onto the elegant finger, gold snugly wrapped around her wife.

 

Regina masked her discomfort with a smile, feeling the metal brand her skin and clamp down on the bone. She recited the same words without any stumbling, murmuring _I Do_ and sliding the second ring onto her bride’s finger, dark eyes flicking up, looking for any of the same hints of anxiety Emma might feel about being legally _owned_ by another person, but the woman was as happy as a stray puppy who’d been scooped up out of the cold and brought inside a kind stranger’s warm home, collared and reassured that they belonged to someone forever.

 

“You may now ki - oh, okay.” Archie coughed again amidst the cheer that erupted from the audience as their savior surged forward and grabbed a mildly startled Regina in a deep kiss, dipping the brunette until a tumble of raven silk brushed against the glassy surface of their frosted stage.

 

“ _Show off,_ ” She mumbled against her wife’s lips, the world tilted on its axis, her arms instinctively wrapped around the back of the savior’s neck, peeking up at Emma from beneath long, black lashes.

 

Emma grinned, intoxicated by the laughter surging around them, and the beauty wrapped up in her arms. “ _You know you love it._ ”

 

Unable to disagree, she closed her eyes fully and beckoned another kiss with soft lips, sighing sweetly into the embrace, the blood rushing to her head the longer Emma held her dipped. The world spun and a gentle darkness cradled her mind, whisking her away.

 

* * *

 

By the stroke of midnight, the entire procession had ended up at _Granny’s Diner_ for the wedding party. Completely checked out from the music and the conversation which made the building vibrate, people swaying to the melody of the jukebox, Regina snuggled into her wife’s side and kissed away the affectionate snorts Emma gave her, the sheriff teasing how sleepy she looked as they cuddled in one of the back booths.

 

“ _You taste like cake_ ,” Regina mumbled, licking off some chocolate frosting from the corner of her wife’s lips.

 

“I woulda guessed pie.” August chortled in passing, ducking the crumpled up napkin Emma tossed at him, her cheeks looking as if some child had scribbled on them with a crimson crayon, her body physically incapable of handling this much happiness.

 

Burying her face in the savior’s neck, sucking on the sensitive pulse beating wildly beneath her questing tongue and soft lips, Regina lifted her legs until they were balanced on her wife’s knees, body fully curled into the booth and away from the rest of the party. Breath hitching from pleasure, Emma quickly gave up asking if her wife wanted to dance, mildly embarrassed that they were basically canoodling in public but this was the _one_ night she was nothing but overly pleased and proud to have the whole world witness how much she was loved and cherished by the most beautiful, complicated woman in the world, and possibly in every realm.

 

Gagging, their son quickly changed his mind about hanging out with his moms on their special night, and the entire diner chortled in amusement but refrained from interrupting, turning to enjoy the party for themselves, diving into the wedding cake, and cheering at various, spontaneous toasts fueled by an unlimited supply of alcohol.

 

“ _Emma?_ ”

 

The savior smiled down at her love, their noses brushing one another, one hand settled on the mayor’s warm thigh, squeezing it beneath the table. “Yeah?”

 

“ _Take me to bed_.”

 

A sudden _poof_ of white smoke engulfed them both, and everyone but Henry and his grandparents erupted into laughter once more, the royal family split between gagging and scowling at the lack of manners.

 

* * *

 

 

They didn’t go far.

 

Granny had arranged a honeymoon suite for them in the top floor of the inn, and the two of them emerged in the thick of christmas; the fireplace was crackling, peppermint scented flames combatting the natural fragrance of the wreaths hanging on the walls, jerusalem cherries resting on every wooden surface, and the mistletoe dangling over the threshold of the bedroom. The music from the diner floated upwards, providing a base vibration that caused the floor beneath the savior’s feet to tremble.

 

Holding her bride, however, made Emma feel steady in a way she’d never felt before, strong arms cradling a queen wrapped in white silk. The playful smirks on both their faces began to soften the longer they gazed at one another, the queen’s dark features cast even further into shadow, while the savior’s face glowed with happiness, each line and curve illuminated by the fire. Caressing the nape of her bride’s neck, Regina teased patterns with her nails until Emma was compelled to duck down and kiss her sweet and slow beneath the dangling mistletoe, and the brunette remained unaware they were moving until she was tilting back and falling onto the soft blankets, cradled by the pillows and rose petals scattered on the bedding, her quiet gasp swiftly muffled by the press of her wife’s body settling on top of her.

 

“ _My dress -_ ”

 

“ _Leave it on._ ”

 

The material bunched up around her hips, and the knots in her stomach abruptly tightened in mingled anxiousness and excitement as a rough, white hand grasped her inner thigh. Her first time had been a night similar to this one; the scent of pine, frost coating the glass window, a good person with kind eyes which crinkled in the corner, the way his daughter’s did and her daughter, and that daughter’s precious son. Regina released a tiny little moan when Emma began to knead her flesh through the white stockings, massaging her way up until she reached the apex of her prize, and it felt really nice, even as the queen squirmed nervously beneath the questing, clumsy fingers of her new husband, his ragged breath on her ear advising her to stay still.

 

 _Be good_ , he kissed the tears on her cheeks, wisps of his beard scratching her face like blisters hatching in her pores and the world began to simmer, sweat building on her body and running like rivulets across the surface of her skin as he mounted her.

 

When Emma kissed her, it was like being tugged to the surface, the hot iron chains wrapped around her lower body attached to an anchor partially buried in the bottom of a boiling ocean. She was being ripped apart, but she didn’t protest Emma saving her even though it hurt worse than drowning in these memories. She clung to the savior and chuckled when the fabric of her stockings were easily torn at the crotch, allowing her eager bride easy access to white bikini panties. “ _I’m so wet for you,_ ” She promised, hot breath caressing the curve of her wife’s ear, sucking the lobe of flesh into her mouth, tongue swirling around it and drawing it deeper the way she knew excited Emma just enough that she’d be distracted by the subtle magic Regina was forced to perform, ensuring her entrance would be well lubricated, a handy charm she’d picked up late in her disastrous first marriage.

 

Emma sighed into her mouth upon discovering the evidence of her wife’s claim, nudging the panties aside and gently sinking a single finger inside, waiting for the tight muscles to adjust to her intrusion before slowly crooking it upwards. “ _Love you so much…_ ” Her words unknowingly breached the oppressive grunts and groans of her grandfather’s vocalized pleasure, tears springing from the queen’s eyes as he rutted inside her ill prepared body. Regina reached up to push him away, but when she made contact with his shoulders it was only Emma, whose bright eyes materialized in the soft glow of the christmas suite, and whose unsteady breathing was converted into a soft stream of affection and quiet vows.

 

“ _I love you_ ,” Regina whispered back, closing her eyes when Emma buried her mouth again, a natural arousal flushing her chest when the savior took her tongue captive and proceeded to suck on the tip like it was candy, undulating her hips when a second finger was added inside her, a scissoring gesture stretching her out and making her pussy weep. “ _Em-mah!_ ” Gradually, they began to sink deeper into a slightly faster rhythm, tendrils of golden hair coming undone until it was raining sunshine curls, glowing with unnatural brightness, caught in the fireplace glow, blinding Regina even though her eyes were closed, orange light filtered through her lids and washing across her mind.

 

With one hand buried beneath the silk skirts, moving with slowly rising urgency, fingers stroking the collapsing walls, struggling to keep moving despite the increasingly smaller space to allow such freedom, Emma ravaged her bride’s mouth with hungry moans and a fierce sense of entitlement that said _mine now_ which Regina found simultaneously thrilling and uncomfortably familiar, but she ignored the sharp tugs beckoning her back beneath the ocean. If she had to belong to somebody, be owned by anybody, this was the woman she would choose.

 

The peppermint flames glowed brighter, washing across the room, like they were submerged beneath an orange ocean, drowning the queen’s devastated sobbing and Regina’s keening cry of pleasure as her spine arched off the bed, wrapped around the savior’s fingers which were extracted a few minutes later, thoroughly soaked. “ _Good girl,_ ” She murmured, pupils fully dilated with lust as she watched her bride fall apart, and, completely spent,  Regina nevertheless smiled through her tears up at the woman she loved, pretending like the compliment hadn’t just torn through her chest and shredded the edges of her heart.

 

* * *

 

 

While the brunette disappeared inside the adjoining bathroom for several minutes, Emma wandered around the room as she distractedly loosened her tie and unbuttoned her dress shirt, peering closer at the ornaments decorating the impressive tree in the corner, the base littered with wedding gifts that the guests had brought. Instead of a star or an angel, the very top of the tree featured figurines of the two brides carved and painted by Marco; the blonde in a perfectly tailored suit that matched the one she was currently in the process of shedding, and the brunette decked in white.

 

The door to the bathroom creaked open, a strip of artificial light briefly causing the bedroom shadows to scatter, and Emma dragged her eyes from one brunette to the other, breath catching in her throat.

 

“You look…” The rest of her vocabulary was inaccessible, train of thought coming to a screeching halt as the former queen posed in the doorway, scarlet lips curled into a smirk.

 

Evidently succumbing to the holiday spirit, the brunette had swapped her dress for a wine red basque with white trimming, a matching santa hat topping the messy sweep of raven tresses which didn’t quite reach her shoulders. Instead of underwear, protecting her modesty was a cherry red cock bobbing slightly, green leather straps keeping it held suspended between the mayor’s thighs.

 

“Merry Christmas,” She murmured, mocha chocolate eyes flooding with some mirth when Emma burst into sudden laughter, the thick tension in the air, which only one of them could feel, lessening considerably.

 

Sinking onto the edge of the mattress, Regina clicked her tongue in disagreement when Emma continued to take off her clothes or tried to join her on the bed. Taking the hint, keeping her untidy suit on, Emma grinned and sank to her knees before the former queen, hands slapped away when she tried to settle them on her wife’s thighs. Planting her palms on the floor, she leaned forward until her lips were brushing the cherry tip. Slowly parting them, the bright red head was gradually accommodated, pushing deeper inside her mouth, cushioned by a built-up of saliva and cradled by her swirling tongue. Moaning as if she’d been granted her greatest treasure, Emma raised her gaze until she could peek up at Regina from beneath her honey brown lashes.

 

Tangling her fingers in golden curls, the mayor guided her bride further and further down until the cock was bumping against the back of the savior’s throat and thoroughly lubricated with saliva. Regina lightly scratched Emma’s scalp with her nails, tremors of pleasure skirting down the slope of the savior’s skull and the length of her spine. When her bride’s nose nudged teasingly against her stomach, dark eyes met the stormy ocean gaze, and Regina relented, lessening the pressure and allowing Emma to rise to the surface again, gasping for breath.

 

“Keep the tie on,” Regina’s command was a little hoarse, as was the savior’s raw chuckle, jaw succumbing to a slight ache.

 

Unbuckling her belt and tugging down her trousers, left in nothing but her black thong, unbuttoned white dress shirt flapping open and allowing a generous view of her cleavage encased by a black push up bra, and a loosened tie which the mayor immediately grasped ahold of, Emma clambered onto her wife’s lap, the lips of her soaked entrance brushing enticingly against the cherry red cock. “You’re ridiculous,” She murmured, another smile cracking across her face at the santa hat, the furry bauble at the end dipping low.

 

“I am not, it’s Christmas.”

 

“It’s our wedding night, and you’re dressed as Santa.”

 

“Because it’s _Christmas_ , Miss Swan, and I’m nothing if not a traditionalist.”

 

“Right,” Emma laughed, throat thickening with arousal as she continued gently grinding on the cherry appendage, the curve of her bottom sliding against the smooth plain of her wife’s thighs. “Because this whole night just screams tradition.”

 

“ _You’re_ the one who’ll be screaming.” The low declaration was abruptly punctuated by the former queen’s hands coming to rest on the pale hips and force them down, watching the red cock disappear inside the enveloping white thighs, the air singing with the savior’s pleasured caroling.

 

It began to snow again, a fresh coat of white painting the streets of the small town one of them had created and the other had freed, and which they now ruled together, a little kingdom tucked away in a corner of Maine. The glass windows of their honeymoon suite frosted over so completely that the town disappeared, leaving just them.

 

Regina planted her lips on the pale column of her bride’s throat, tasting the vibrations of every little whimper the younger woman made, grazing sharp white teeth along the flesh until she found the spot that made the savior’s toes curl, and sank her teeth in, sucking with vicious determination. She dug her nails into the savior’s flushed bottom, relishing the hiss of pained pleasure it provoked, Emma continuing to bounce and grind on her lap, then dragged her nails up the length of her back, until her fingers came into contact with deliciously soft curls, bunching them in her hands as she continued her brutal assault with tongue and teeth, marking her territory.

 

This was better, this was so much better, being the one in control and practically untouched, even as she got to bring pleasure to the woman she loved. The gentle fall of snow had turned into a blinding white storm, powdery flakes giving way to ice pellets which frequently _tapped_ on the glass, but neither woman paid it any mind.

 

Leaving fresh scars on the savior’s strong back, Regina slid a single finger inside the younger woman’s pussy, wincing just a little as it got caught between the bouncing, clenched muscles and stubborn cock, withdrawing with arousal coating her skin from the very tip to the knuckle. One hand clenched on her bride’s left cheek, dragging it further away from its twin, just enough to allow a slim opening, she slid her finger between the parting, and lightly pressed against the unexplored entrance.

 

“Don’t even think about it.” Emma growled, cheeks flushing bright red, matching the color of the cock that was making sparks fly across her vision. Her bottom clenched around the finger flirting with the idea of pushing inside her, accidentally giving mixed signals.

 

“Just the tip.” The brunette haggled, pressing a little harder, the flat of her fingertip starting to sink inside.

 

“I will literally murder you.”

 

“I think you kinda want me to, but don’t want me to _know_ how much you want to.”

 

“I’m sorry, is it also tradition to drive your bride to commit homicide on Christmas?”

 

Regina chuckled, warm breath caressing a dusky pink nipple. “Your safeword is _moist_ \- use it, and I’ll leave you alone.”

 

“ _Regina_ ,” The savior groaned, their argument doing nothing to curtail her pleasure. “You know I hate that word.”

 

“Are you going to use it?”

 

“I’m _not_ saying that word.”

 

“Last chance, dear.”

 

“You’re insufferable!”

 

Mesmerized by the sight of her bride’s bouncing bosoms practically catapulting themselves into her face, the former queen leaned forward and captured an erect nipple with a sweep of her tongue, moaning around the milk white flesh spilling into her mouth. Emma wrapped her arms tighter around the back of her wife’s neck, pulling their bodies flush together, partially in attempt to keep close and partially being chased by the finger dancing around her entrance, skirting the last remaining evidence of chastity, pressing in such a way that actually felt about as good as Emma felt nervous about it being bad.

 

“ _Just the tip_ ,” She gasped, clenching around the cherry red cock, shockwaves of pleasure rippling through her body and disturbing the electrical wires linking her brain to common sense, and the former queen immediately took advantage.

 

The snowstorm raged against the glass, a howling wind slowly gaining on the town and attempting to creep into cracks in the inn. The silver white flashes illuminated the room, and Regina pushed her finger all the way into her husband’s granddaughter, making her squeal, the pain thankfully lessened as she came around the cock a second later, a hot eruption in her lower tummy seeping out between her thighs as she sagged onto the mayor’s lap, still caught around the older woman’s finger.

 

“Did you mean to do that?” Emma asked her about an hour later, the two of them stripped of all clothing and cuddling beneath the blankets, the savior resting on her stomach with Regina’s enchanted hand resting on her bottom, emitting a faint blue glow, acting in lieu of an ice pack.

 

“I’m so sorry,” She murmured in response, rubbing soothing circles with her hand, relieved to hear her bride chuckle.

 

“I don’t _really_ mind, it felt nice overall.”

 

“You’re never as mad at me as you should be.”

 

“Are you trying to make me mad?” Emma turned her cheek a little, messy strands of hair partially obscuring her vision of her wife.

 

“I just never quite understood… how forgiving you can be of me.”

 

“Regina, I love you.”

 

“ _That’s_ a whole nother mystery to untangle.”

 

Emma smiled, snugly curled beneath the blankets and nestled into her pillow, tucked into her wife’s side, the soothing hand lulling her into darkness. “I’ll tell you all the reasons I love you in the morning, too sleepy to soothe your ego right now.”

 

“Ha ha.”

 

“Tell me you love me so I can go to sleep.”

 

“I love you,” The words were easy, slipping through the parting of her wife’s lips, making Emma flush with pleasure every single time.

 

Snuggling closer, Emma tucked her head beneath the queen’s chin, a little bit sore but thoroughly satisfied, kissing her wife’s collarbone. “I’m so happy,” She mumbled into the crook of her wife’s neck. “Are you happy?”

  
Yawning, the brunette echoed her bride’s sleepy sentiment, squeezing her bottom affectionately and keeping her hand resting there as she drifted off. Consequently, she missed the way her savior stiffened up, and rose up a little on the bed, gazing down at her through the darkness, brow furrowed in uncertainty and concern, internal lie detector _pinging_ like crazy, a worried frown grazing her face.


	2. The Good Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't quite make my New Years Eve deadline, but considering how bad I usually am, I'm counting this as a win! Also, this chapter turned out much longer than expected, so there will be a third and final chapter instead of just two. Happy New Years!

****The entire world was grey. And without realizing it, they watched the snowflakes fall at the same time; Emma from the couch downstairs, living room bathed in cold, silver light, and Regina from the bedroom window upstairs, her forehead pressed against the unforgiving glass, skin frosting over and starting to sting like there were notes scrawled with her wife’s inscrutable cursive stapled to her temple; _I don’t know how to make you happy._

 

She could still taste the salt from last night’s tears on her lip, flushing with shame as she remembered how desperately she’d clung to the sheriff, how a bitter hope had sprouted in her chest when for a single moment the younger woman’s mouth had yielded before her own, ripped away a second later, along with the hope; its violently torn roots leaving gaping wounds in her heart.

 

Emma tasted the same tears, tongue absentmindedly sweeping across her bottom lip as she gazed through the large floor to ceiling windows which allowed the flood of silver light into the living room. One arm tucked beneath her head, spine propped up by a couple of pillows, she lost herself in the gentle blizzard, bright eyes appearing grey in the early morning, a tumble of curls sparkling against pale skin.

 

The peace she’d hoped to feel by finally ridding herself of the marriage had yet to come, but this numbness in her fingers and toes was preferable to the ache which used to throb in her chest in place of a heart. The past year her pulse had skipped to the beat of _not good enough_ , _not good enough_ , _never quite enough_ and she was grateful for the stillness now, the way nothing inside her body seemed to move, everything slowed down just enough that she could imagine her chest wasn’t rising or falling, her breath completely still.

 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed between the onset of her numbness and the light footsteps on the winding staircase, the hitch of breathing which disrupted the peacefully flowing air, announcing her wife’s presence which the environment could never ignore.

 

“ _Emma_?”

 

She contemplated faking she was asleep, the sound her wife made when those two syllables were linked together, a deep resonance in the brunette’s throat and the soft _hum_ of her lips briefly coming into contact provoking a sharp _something_ that disturbed the ice surface stretched across the sheriff’s heart.

 

“Hm?” She settled on a compromise, not turning around, continuing to watch the snow, faking she was far more drowsy than she actually was but not able to truly ignore the older woman.

 

“I won’t ask you to stay,” Her voice trembled, the last it would tremble for the duration of their crumbling marriage. “But please, let’s wait until after Christmas. Can you give me that?”

 

There was a lingering _hum_ of silence, the tension building between them, and then a dry chuckle preceded her wife’s answer, like a _crackle_ of static interrupting regular programming. “It’s always about appearances with you isn’t it?”

 

“I don’t ask for this lightly.”

 

“Never mind how we really feel, how we really are. So long as everyone else sees what you want them to see.”

 

“I don’t want to ruin everybody’s _Christmas_ just because you woke up one day and decided the vows we exchanged meant absolutely nothing to you.” The mayor’s voice sharpened suddenly, like steel cutting through a thicket of wild shrubbery and wood.

 

Emma shook her head, a pained smile directed towards the frosted glass. “I meant every word that night. I’ll bet you can’t say the same.”

 

“Have I betrayed you? Have I ever cheated on you?” Regina demanded, drawing closer now, close enough to rest her hands on the back of the sofa, fingers curling over the engraved wood. “Have I been anything other than an exemplary wife? Do I push you away when you want to bed me? Have I forgotten your birthday? Valentine’s Day? Am I abusive towards you? In your estimation, am I a poor mother? Tell me what could I have possibly done!”

 

Her voice shook the fragile walls of the impressive home she’d built with dark magic, the foundation crumbling as her wife’s love seemed to seep from the pores of their home, the oxygen slipping out as well. When the quaking ceased, there was only a hush settling over them both, like powdered snow draped across the peaceful New England landscape.

 

Finally, still not deigning to turn around and look up her, Emma murmured a soft sound of assent, ignoring the brokenhearted ranting. “You’ll sign the papers?”

 

Releasing a shuddering breath, the brunette nodded, clenching her eyes shut and struggling to relax the muscle twitches in her face, getting the ticks under control. “I will. Yes. If you stay through Christmas.”

 

Another murmur of assent. Emma continued watching the snow, and Regina watched her from behind the sofa, gazing down. Watching the silver light thread through her wife’s hair. Silver braiding gold. The room was so cold, her bare toes raking the carpet, digging in for warmth. The mayor unclenched her fingers from around the wooden frame and wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders, wearing it like a shawl, the light surrounding the savior no longer granting any comfort.

 

“Goodnight,” She whispered, when she could stand the silence no longer.

 

There was a hesitation in the air, she could hear it lingering there on the savior’s lips, a subtle vibration.

 

But, behind the sofa, her face hidden, Emma closed her eyes and kept quiet, pretending to sleep, and waited for the footsteps that would indicate her wife leaving the room, heart thudding whenever the staircase _creaked_ , and when she heard the door to their bedroom open and close, the lock _clicking_ , the sound ricocheting off the walls, like a bullet streaking through their marriage.

 

Emma didn’t know what she’d expected, what she’d hoped for. The loss of a young man, decades ago, had prompted the queen to do everything in her power to save him. And when that wasn’t enough, she desperately accumulated more power until she could. Clearly, he’d been a love worth fighting for. And while Emma could still feel the damp press of her wife’s mouth against her own, she could also taste the sadness and lack of surprise, the grim acceptance of a lackluster bride who would have never initiated walking away but couldn’t summon any reasons to stay beyond worrying what the town would think.

 

 _Did you ever love me?_ Emma clenched her eyes shut, the accusations and unanswered questions scrubbing the inside of her skull, rubbing her raw, entire body trembling. _Were you ever happy?_ She rolled over on the couch, burying her mouth in the cushions, muffling her dry heaving and pained sobs.

 

Her wife did the same upstairs.

 

* * *

 

It was easier to lie to their family than expected.

 

Although their son was observant - at times to an obnoxious degree - his tentatively bubbling social life thankfully distracted him from the fact that Emma never seemed to join his adoptive mother in the master bedroom anymore. Several times in December, he would pad down the staircase on quest for a midnight snack, and blink at the sight of his mom on the couch, the flashing television illuminating her grave features.

 

 _Shift ended late, didn’t wanna wake your mother_ , she’d excuse with a smile, or _you know your mother doesn’t like tv in the bedroom, I’m going up in a minute._

 

A prickle of discomfort would edge into his spine, but he shook the feeling off and smiled back at her, munching on a cookie, and offering her a muffled goodnight before trudging back up the staircase to his room.

 

In the morning, Emma would be gone, presumably out for one of her morning jogs and Henry would eat breakfast with his adoptive mother. When Regina left for work through the front door, pausing only to conjure a comb and run it through her son’s messy hair, pecking him on the forehead, brisk but affectionate, the blonde would suddenly enter from the backyard, always having just missed her wife, and would finish up breakfast with her son, ruffling his shaggy hair and grinning at him over her coffee mug. Surrounded by so much love, it was easy for him to not even realize he was the only one basking in it.

 

The savior’s parents were no more observant than their grandson. Emma and Regina used their jobs as excuses for why only one of them could attend family dinners at a time, and since David was no longer a deputy sheriff (he’d been gently, if firmly, shoved out of the ill suited position and non subtly guided towards running the animal shelter once again), he had no idea that Emma spent her Friday nights balling up pieces of paper and chucking them into variously placed baskets while a barely lucid Leroy cheered her on from behind bars.

 

In that month, there were no birthdays, no upcoming town meetings or council matters to attend to, no monsters to fight, no need for them to be seen together at all except for a school pageant featuring the savior’s little brother, and the Christmas party they’d agreed to host at the mansion looming over their heads, which happened to coincide with their first year anniversary.

 

The pageant was held a couple days prior to Christmas Eve in the elementary school auditorium. Emma sat with her parents on one side and her son on the other. But when Violet turned around a few rows ahead of them, and caught his eye, the savior’s son instantly blushed and stumbled to a standing position, nearly tripping on his own two feet as he bounded down the aisle towards her, like a puppy obediently returning to his master, without so much as a mumbled goodbye to his family.

 

More than a little amused, Emma didn’t realize that the aisle seat was now open until her wife’s bundled up figure was hurriedly settling into it just as the house lights were dimming, the auditorium doors _flapping_ closed, the _creak_ of the rusted hinges echoing through the packed room.

 

“ _You’re late_ ,” Snow White accused with no minor amount of affection, stretching her arm across her daughter’s body to squeeze her former stepmother/current daughter-in-law’s arm.

 

“Observant as always.” The mayor huffed in response, jerking out of the touch.

 

Emma gave her wife no sign of acknowledgement besides an involuntary stiffness that took over her body whenever they were in unscheduled close contact. She kept her gaze fastened to the stage where one of the teachers was introducing the play, his hands raised to discourage some of the murmuring running rampant through the audience, bouncing from aisle to aisle.

 

Unwrapping the scarf from around her head, revealing a face flushed pink from the cold, Regina fumbled with the gold buttons of her coat, gloved fingers slipping off them. Hesitating a moment, she tugged off just the right glove, and then continued her work, not realizing the glove had slid off her lap as she opened the coat and shrugged it off her shoulders.

 

Glancing down at something soft which had landed on her boot, Emma reached down and grasped the glove, lifting it up and turning slightly to offer it to her wife. Their eyes met in the darkness, an energy flowing between them which guided their vision to its proper place.

 

“ _Thanks,_ ” Regina breathed hesitantly, and was immediately shushed by several parents surrounding the two of them as the single beam of light on the stage expanded, ushering in an uneven chorus of adolescent singers dressed as shepherds, sheep and palm trees.

 

Electric sparks stung their skin during the glove transfer, bare hands each attempting to make the minimum amount of contact needed. Deaf to the high pitched performance, Emma felt the seconds slow, making her aware of every half inch of fabric slipping through her fingers, measuring out how much time was left before she’d have no excuse to continue gazing at her wife. The sparks were beginning to blister; this was what loving Regina had felt like for the past year - painful, and more real than anything else in the world.

 

The glove was no longer in her possession. She was still half turned in her seat, staring at her wife. There was a pocket of light between them, streaming from the stage, closing further as Regina began to lean closer, causing the people behind them to shift in their seats, angling for a better view of the stage.

 

Their lips were in danger of meeting. Emma could feel a brush of electrons, the rouge lipstick painting her wife’s mouth not far behind. “ _Papers_ ,” She whispered, and the word stopped Regina in her tracks, a flash of devastation illuminating her features in the darkness. “ _Can you sign them tomorrow?_ ”

 

“ _Of course._ ”

 

They leaned back, away from one another, and turned towards the stage, watching in silence for the duration of the play.

 

* * *

 

The day before Christmas Eve, they went down to Gold’s shop, and signed the documents there. Shuffling the papers, he left them alone for a few minutes, ostensibly to do legitimate lawyer stuff, but Emma could tell he found the atmosphere just as unbearable, even though the two of them were on their best behavior.

 

Leaning back in her seat, she watched from the corner of her eye as Regina flipped one glove back and forth, the black leather lightly slapping the bare hand it no longer protected. Her gaze slipped towards the gloved fingers of her wife’s left hand, unable to help but wonder if Regina had taken the ring off yet.

 

“Emma,” The deputy’s gaze snapped up, cheeks flushing like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t, only minorly relieved to find that her wife - her _ex_ -wife wasn’t actually looking directly at her.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I just want to say, I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to… you didn’t really…” She was quite relieved to be interrupted, her neck flushing hotly as she stumbled through yet another muddled explanation of _It’s not you, It’s me_ that they were both tired of.

 

“I’ve never been a happy person. I thought if I tried really hard, I could be. And I felt that… with you, I felt something very close to it. And I thought that as long as you were happy, it would be enough for both of us.” Her grip on the glove tightened, ending the back and forth _swish_ of the loose, leather fingers. “Does that make sense?”

 

Emma shrugged, unsure. “I guess? But, y’know, it doesn’t feel all that great to realize that the woman you love is never going to be happy with you.”

 

“Yes, I realize that.”

 

“I don’t know how you expected me to be happy when you weren’t.”

 

“I really just hoped it wouldn’t matter.” Regina sighed, perfect posture slumping just a little. “The world was more tolerable with you in my life, and saying ‘yes’ to your proposal made you smile.”

 

Emma looked away, a muscle in her jaw tensing. “Next time, don’t do me any favors.”

 

“It was wrong of me, I know that now. You could have been with someone who… someone actually capable of - ”

 

“Of loving me?”

 

“I _do_ love you, Emma.” The deputy blinked at the watery smile sent her way, watching how her ex-wife’s mouth couldn’t seem to stop trembling. “Please don’t think I’m not capable of love. It’s just that love - for me - doesn’t make me happy.”

 

There was a pause, the savior externally struggling to comprehend what she was saying. Regina sighed, rubbing at the crease dividing her forehead.

 

“For the longest time, my love was nothing but a death sentence… and for me, your mother’s love was a prison. I _still_ carry that with me all these years. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

 

“But… I’m not my - ”

 

“You are _not_ your mother.” Regina quickly assured, both gloved and bare fingers curling around the wood of her armrest in lieu of touching her ex-wife. “It’s not about who you are, it’s just about… being loved by _anyone_ feels like prison to me. When it’s you, and when it’s our son,” A lump of shame grew at the base of her throat at the admission which made her sheriff’s eyes grow wider. “It’s bearable. Like a padded cage, like… the softest collar wrapped around my neck. I can _just about_ stand it.”

 

The rustle of the beaded curtain caused their eyes to snap away from one another, their divorce lawyer limping back into the room. He gave them each a few more papers to sign. Wanting to continue their conversation, Emma signed her name quickly, but the _scratch_ of her former wife’s pen was even faster, and Emma still had one more paper to go when Regina was swiftly rising from her seat and stiffly thanking Mr. Gold for his time.

 

The sound of the bell _jingling_ above the front door of the shop caused Emma to slump and slow down, hand abruptly feeling all too heavy. Finishing up her signatures, she slid the papers across the desk and mumbled a barely coherent sound of gratitude as she stood up.

 

“You might want to see she gets that.” Mr. Gold nodded at the right handed glove the mayor had left behind, resting on the desk beside the discarded pen.

 

Seizing the opportunity, Emma was out the shop in a flash, the bell above the door _jingling_ again.

 

Rolling his eyes, Mr. Gold shuffled the papers and slipped them into one of the desk drawers, figuring he’d wait to file them, saving them all the trouble. In the meantime, he’d charge them both double his usual rate for completely wasting his time.

 

“Regina! Wait up!” The sheriff slowed to a jog when she caught up enough to the parked mercedes across the street, the mayor’s bare fingers handling the keys. “You forgot this.”

 

Dark eyes jumped down to the glove extended toward her, cheeks coloring from more than just a slap of cold wind. “Thank you.” Careful to extract it with her protected fingers, she froze when Emma gently trapped her hand in a loose embrace.

 

“Can we talk?”

 

“I - I don’t - ”

 

“About the - uh - party. Tomorrow. We should’ve coordinated better. My fault. We should go over… stuff.”

 

“I  - yes, that’s… that’s right.” Regina wet her lips, hyper aware of the fact her hand was still being held. “Let’s talk about that.”

 

* * *

 

Their house smelled like Christmas; the logs resting in the fireplace were scented apple cinnamon, a swift ball of fire setting them alight and flooding the house with mouth watering texture. Emma could taste it in the air, her tongue darting out to swipe across her dry lips, not catching the way her ex-wife’s eyes were drawn to the motion.

 

Dozens of family portraits which hung on cream colored walls had been splashed with glitter, causing the hallways to sparkle, and their captured smiles to gleam. The house grew brighter as the afternoon sun began to set on their tour of the mansion; Emma had lived as a visitor in her own home for the past month, sticking around only long enough for Henry to glimpse her at night and in the morning, which meant she was trailing after her ex-wife rather wide eyed and filled with wonder at the transformation of their home.

 

“I didn’t mean to make you do all this by yourself.”

 

“It’s quite alright, I was the one to insist you stay this long.”

 

The carpet covering the gently winding staircase was now a rich burgundy, not only to match a Christmas atmosphere, but in anticipation of the spilled juice and wine that would doubtless occur. The sleek banister had ribbons tied around the wood, and atop the various art pieces Regina had collected, their son had placed tiny santa hats. Emma snorted at her ex-wife’s replica of _The Thinker_ resting on one of the bookshelves in the study, seemingly contemplating the white pompom dangling in front of his face.

 

In the living room, Regina led her over to the bare tree resting in the corner of the room. “I thought it would be a nice activity to let the guests decorate it.”

 

“I like the idea.”

 

The tree was perfect; a lush evergreen she could bury her nose into, and so tall even Anton would need a ladder to reach the top. Regina curled her gloved fingers around the back of the sofa, watching her ex-wife deeply inhale the fresh scent.

 

“Shall we go over the guest list?”

 

“What’s to go over?” Emma voice was slightly muffled before she pulled her face out of the tree, turning around to face the couch. Regina immediately bit down on her bottom lip, fighting off the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, emerald needles sticking out of blonde hair. “The whole friggin town is basically coming.”

 

Regina sighed. “I do so wish that was more of an exaggeration. Still not entirely sure how your mother convinced me to host this.”

 

“She’s devious like that.” Emma grinned. “So what about food?”

 

“You lasted a whole of twenty minutes without asking. I’m suitably impressed.” She rolled her eyes at the sheriff sticking her tongue out, biting down on another smile. “ _Tiana’s_ is catering.”

 

“How did Granny take the news?”

 

“You’ll have to tell me.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Emma’s eyes bulged out, and then her face relaxed, succumbing to her own eye roll when she glimpsed her ex-wife’s smirk.

 

“It’s fine, I insisted she was our guest and I wanted her and Ruby just to enjoy themselves.” Regina paused. “Speaking of, you received some early presents from her. I put them under the tree.”

 

Emma glanced down, and then had to crouch on the floor to lift up the low branches in order to see the small pile of brightly wrapped boxes which had already gathered around the wooden base.

 

“She came over to deliver them herself. Very insistent, I might add.”

 

“Huh?” Emma detracted herself from beneath the tree, distractedly blinking some needles out of her lashes.

 

“Only that she seemed reluctant I should take them instead of hand delivering them to you herself.” Regina paused, gloved hands tensing around the back of the sofa. “You didn’t tell her about us, did you?”

 

“What? No, of course not.”

 

“I believe you.” Regina averted her eyes, cheeks coloring a bit, and now without the excuse of the cold wind to save her.

 

Emma studied her, confused. “Do you?”

 

“I thought perhaps… you might have told her if - ” Her voice broke off, shaking her head, a short curtain of wavy raven silk brushing against her neck.

 

“If what?” Emma slowly rose, tentatively making her way towards the sofa, the cushions dipping beneath the weight of her knees.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“C’mon, tell me.” Regina huffed, reaching up to rake her gloved fingers through her hair. Emma’s attention was briefly diverted. “Planning on going somewhere?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“It’s warm in here.” Emma arched her brow at the gloves.

 

Flushing again, the former queen shrugged, and tugged off only one of them, flexing her right hand. “Since it bothers you so much.”

 

“So, why would I tell Ruby?”

 

“Miss Swan…” Her hands sought purchase on the back of the sofa once again, needing something to steady her as the younger woman rose a little on her knees, and placed her own hands, several shades paler, on the ornate wood on either side of the tensed olive skinned fingers and the leather glove.

 

“Tell me.”

 

“...are you, are you _with_ Miss Lucas?” Her cheeks flushed hot and dark eyes shimmered dangerously at the sudden laugh which burst from her ex-wife’s throat. “Right, well, glad you’re so amused.” She pushed off the back of the sofa, and made to stride away, but the savior quickly leaned forward and grabbed the crook of her arm, dragging her back. “ _Let go_.”

 

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry!” Emma was grinning at her, squeezing her arm. “You’re so cute when you’re being absurd.”

 

“ _Excuse_ you, I - ”

 

“You don’t _really_ think I would ever - ”

 

“You _just_ divorced me.” Regina snapped at her, jerking her arm away. “We signed the papers this morning, remember? You’ve taken off your ring. After tonight, you’re completely free to - to be with whomever you want, out in the open. Don’t tell me what I really think about you.”

 

“I’m not with anyone else, Regina, I promise you, and I don’t plan to be.” Emma sighed. “C’mon, you know… you know how I feel.”

 

The anger she was hiding behind instantly melted away, trickling like ice water through her veins, pooling at the base of her stomach. Regina hugged her arms around her waist, guilty and helpless and hopelessly longing for what was slipping from between them.

 

Emma chewed on the inside of her cheek, quietly reaching into her shirt and drawing out a third silver chain Regina hadn’t noticed adorning her neck. Now joining the flat circle and swan pendant Neal had given her, the gold band rested against her chest, kept close to the savior’s heart.

 

“You… didn’t take it off.”

 

“Did you?” Stormy grey eyes flickered to the gloved hand.

 

Hesitating a few moments, entirely unsure where they were headed, Regina tugged off the left hand glove, flexing her bare fingers in the air, an identical gold band cutting into her skin. She imagined she could feel blood dripping from her hand, like it was hot iron searing her flesh. But when her eyes watered it was only from the pain of seeing Emma’s desperately relieved smile and release of breath. “I couldn’t.”

 

“But you… you wanted to.” Emma wet her lips. “You don’t actually like wearing it, being married to me?”

 

“I don’t like _not_ being married to you either, Emma.”

 

The savior’s hands slid beneath where her own had resettled on the sofa edge, their soft palms instantly vibrating with a kind of natural energy that had always existed between them. “You love me, but aren’t happy with me. You don’t want to be married, but you don’t like getting divorced either.”

 

“See how uncomplicated it is?”

 

They shared a brief laugh, Regina’s voice thickening as the seconds _ticked_ on by, her mocha colored eyes wading through a rising tide, trying to gauge her ex-wife’s expression.

 

“Take the ring off.” Emma brushed the cool metal with her thumb, smiling up at Regina from beneath her lashes. “Shhh, just trust me and do it.”

 

It took a few tries, a couple of painful yanks and tugs, but eventually Regina managed to twist it off. And it was like… it was like it left a scar on her finger, a tiny slaughter of beauty matching the one which marred her upper lip. The damage had been done, a year’s worth of being _owned_. And yet still, to be set free like this should have made her happy. But her fingers twitched painfully when she handed the ring over, her skin missing the comfort of her hot iron collar.

 

Emma unclasped the silver chain necklace and slid the second ring onto it. It slid on the fragile curve until it bumped against its twin with a tiny _click_ of greeting. “Do you mind?” Smiling at her ex-wife’s flash of surprise, Emma turned around and presented the clasps behind her neck, waiting for the predictable fumble of usually elegant fingers before gathering her unruly curls and sweeping them out of the way, bare neck prickling with warmth as Regina leaned over the edge of the sofa, unsteady breath tickling the skin. “Thanks.”

 

The fingers lingered on her skin. Emma slowly turned around on her knees, the sinking cushions giving her standing former wife a height advantage. “I’m not sure I quite understand.” Regina admitted quietly, unconsciously playing with gold silk tresses, the way it used to make her wife purr with contentment.

 

“For safekeeping.” Emma glanced up at the ceiling. “Hey, guess what?”

 

“Hm?”

  
“Mistletoe.”


	3. The Good Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been almost exactly a year since my previous installment. To make matters worse, instead of delivering a third and final chapter, there are two more chapters plotted out. Hopefully they won't take a year each to complete.

The mansion had exploded into champagne and music, the karaoke machine plugged into the living room dueling with the mayor’s classical playlist. Every so often, Emma could hear the faint ring of the doorbell, but had long since stopped answering, leaving it to the guests to figure opening the door themselves and joining the party. It was probably not the wisest policy, what with most of her wife’s friends and allies being mortal enemies of everyone else who had been invited, but she figured with enough alcohol and holiday cheer, they’d all survive the night.

 

“ _Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingling, too,_ ” The smoky timbre of a landlocked sea witch seeped out of the living room where a small gang of children were climbing over presents to help add decorations to the shaking tree. Among them, Emma’s baby brother, his face buried in emerald thistles, his mop of golden hair curled around various twigs and ornaments as he crawled around the stump. Above them, Jafar was using his staff to carefully adjust the Christmas star at the very top.

 

On the leather couch, over champagne flutes, glasses of hard cider and mugs of eggnog, Ashley and her mom posse watched with an apprehensive eye as their progeny decorated in a den of villains. In the middle of the room, couples swayed and jived to the sea witch’s intoxicating melody.

 

Ursula’s voice splashed against the base of the winding staircase, where the savior stumbled every couple of steps, narrowly avoiding the seated teenagers squished off to either side, their arms looped around the bars of the banister. A two-way traffic was streaming, Emma trying not to trod on Gretel’s foot as she made room for one of the caterers from _Tiana’s Place_ to go through with his tray.

 

“Hey!” The blonde teenager could have been a dead ringer for the savior not even twenty years ago, complete with furrowed brow and utter disdain for authority as Emma snatched the chilled beer out of her hand. “The drinking age in the Enchanted Forest was - like - there _was_ no _non-drinking_ age!”

 

Taking a swig of the bottle herself, Emma smirked at the scowling seventeen year old. “Nice try, kiddo, there’s sparkling cider in the kitchen.”

 

Continuing up the stairs, the second floor hallway was besieged by tipsy fairies, their wings fluttering out of control, and at least one of them seemingly sensitive to the playful stroke of Doctor Whale’s finger who insisted with a grin it was purely out of professional curiosity, as he traced the veins. Lingering a moment to make sure she wasn’t going to have to throw him out on his ass, Emma felt her arm being squeezed and turned around only to be engulfed in Anton’s massive bear hug. “This party is  _awesome_ ,” His ale tinged breath tickled her face, and his own seemed to be peppered with bright lipstick marks, wherever the wiry beard didn’t cover.

 

“Glad you’re having fun,” She laughed, patting him on the back, only mildly concerned when he pulled away and started lumbering down the stairs where the teenagers were forced to flatten themselves against the edges to make room for him.

 

There was only one closed door on the second floor, besides the bathroom. Her son’s door was wide open, the room occupied only by her deputy and Aurora who were chatting on the bed, and Mulan looking the tiniest bit guilty at being caught semi-alone with the princess, despite the large gap of air carefully situated between them.

 

With her back against the master bedroom, Emma deftly twisted the knob behind her and snuck in backwards, making sure no one was watching the hostess disappear. “Regi - gah!” Slapping a hand against her own eyes, Emma hit her face through her fingers against the door as she tried exiting as quickly as she’d entered, cheeks reddened from both the force of the hit and the sight of her parents making out like horny teenagers on _her_ bed. “The hell is wrong with you guys!”

 

Her mother _eeped_ and her father gasped out apologies as he fought to untangle one hand from his wife’s hair and the other from the complicated clasp of her bra. “We’re so - !”

 

“ - sorry, honey, the - ”

 

“ - drinks, maybe a little too - ”

 

“ - strong for us, we - ”

 

“ - didn’t mean to - ”

 

The door closed with a definitive _bang_ as Emma successfully escaped them, a traumatized flush spreading the entire surface of her body. Still holding onto the confiscated beer, Emma took another long swig, a soothing burn coursing through her lungs.

 

Through the second floor hallway window, she glimpsed Roland Locksley helping his half-sister chase after Pongo in the snow capped backyard. Someone had attached plastic antlers to the dalmatian's head, and it wobbled as he danced around his would-be predators, tag wagging non-stop.

 

 _Poofing_ into the open area purely out of not wanting to deal with climbing down the staircase again, Emma wiggled her fingers at the laughing kids, silver flakes catching on blonde lashes and melting on cheeks pinched with cold.

 

There were some other grownups standing around the fringe of the backyard, warming their hands above the fire pit, their laughter bubbling in the cool air.

 

Emma trudged through the snow, back into the mansion through the kitchen door. A collective shiver went through the group as the heat seeped out, and the sheriff stepped in. Tiana had taken up shop, looking strikingly beautiful despite the rolled up sleeves full of stains and frizzy curls spilling into her eyes, every so often flopping up out of her face from an aggravated _huff_.

 

“Hey,” Emma moved in closer, practically spinning out of the way of caterers speeding in and out of the kitchen. “Anything I can do to - ”

 

“You can keep _her_ out of my damn kitchen.” The chef practically snarled, pointing a long, elegant finger at the cranky werewolf haunting the corner of the room.

 

Eugenia Lucas slammed her plate on the counter, and slid off her stool, her own pulled back lips and bared teeth far more vicious than her professional rival’s, but simultaneously softened by the white powder caking her mouth which betrayed the number of beignets she’d devoured. The thread of their argument was immediately lost to Emma who backed up immediately as the two women hurled insults that seemed to belong to a whole nother language of cooking she was unaware of. Words that had once seemed familiar to her like _sauté_ and _braise_ and _flambé_ now ricocheted against the walls and over her head like bullets in the air.

 

“I’ll - just - ” Emma drained the rest of the beer and grabbed some eggnog off the tray of a passing caterer before exiting through the swinging door.

 

The Mad Hatter’s smooth baritone now swept through the ground floor of the mansion. “ _Have yourself a merry little Christmas…_ ” The gentle melody accompanied by the crystal clear voice of the town’s librarian. “ _Let your heart be light…_ ” Their duet followed Emma into the dining room, where her wife’s iPod played a little more clearly, a string quartet dancing around her ankles as she rounded the circular table, scanning the features of her guests.

 

A soft _puff_ of breath met her ear, and the fine hairs on the nape of the savior’s neck stood on end. “Jesus, have you been avoiding - ?” Emma turned around, the words stilling on her tongue, exasperation melting into surprise.

 

Queen Elsa stood there, her smile shy and cheeks flushed. “I wouldn’t say ruling a kingdom an entire world away was about avoiding you.”

 

“Oh my god,” Like magic, a girlish quality stole over the sheriff’s hardened features, and she pulled the Arendelle leader into an immediate hug. “What are you doing here?”

 

“My sister met with an emissary from King Triton's kingdom - one of his daughters, I believe. Apparently she’s a resident here, and she happened to mention this party. I - I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous of me to just - ”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve missed you.”

 

Moving out of the way of traffic, Emma grasped the queen’s hand and tugged her towards the archway which separated the dining room from the hallway which led to the private study. A little pocket of the universe opened up just for them, neither the music from the karaoke machine or her wife’s playlist or the chatter and laughter and drunken arguments ebbing and flowing through the mansion could reach them. “How’ve you been?” Her sea-green eyes soaked in the features long absent from her life, a tiny flame kindled in her chest.

 

At a distance, the two of them looked as if they’d color coordinated. Elsa’s dress was a form fitting, strapless number that only a woman impervious to the cold could have pulled off in the dead of winter. Her azure corset pushed up her chest so that it was practically at eye level with the sheriff. It matched the color of Emma’s snug turtleneck, their slim figures pressed close together as they leaned against the archway, foreheads nearly touching.

 

Unable to hear their conversation, Regina watched the way their lips moved from across the room. _Gee, Elsa, aren’t you cold?_ She imagined them saying. _Oh, gosh, no, thank you for asking, my savior, it’s never bothered me._ Her dark eyes flickered at the brief squeeze of the other queen’s hand on her wife’s bicep. _Surely, you’re too hot in all these clothes. Why not be practically naked like I am?_

 

Turning away from them both, Regina returned to making her rounds, smoothly inserting herself into various conversations, the guise of a hostess keeping her safe from engaging with any one group for too long. As long as she kept moving, she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel, didn’t have to confront the cracks running through her own heart.

 

An hour later, a drunken horde of dwarves rapping “ _It's Christmas time in Hollis, Queens_ …” was more than enough motivation for Regina to escape her hostess duties. Unfortunately, other than the second floor bathroom, there didn’t seem to be any room available. She rather detested the idea of anybody at the party witnessing her seemingly needing to relieve herself, but it seemed silly to just stand outside in the cold.

 

The music crashed against the other side of the closed door Regina slumped against. Not nearly as large as the one adjoining the master bedroom, this bathroom was sparsely decorated. Only a scented candle and soap that made her hands smell of cinnamon.

 

Peering at herself in the mirror, she ran a routine check of hair and makeup, bared her teeth and made sure there wasn’t anything stuck. Impossible, she hadn’t eaten anything. But, still.

 

Seating herself on the toilet seat, Regina smoothed down the skirt of her dress. The music pumping through the mansion seemed to have turned up a notch. Some of it slipped through the crack beneath the door. Without conscious thought, the heel of her shoe _tapped_ against the bathroom tiles, and her mind began to slip backwards into the last twenty-four hours.

 

* * *

 

 “ _Hey, guess what?_ ”

 

“ _Hm?_ ”

 

“ _Mistletoe._ ”

 

In the time it took for her dark gaze to meet the red ribboned plant hanging above their heads, the savior’s hands had cupped her cheeks, directing her gaze back towards earth. The intensity of her wife’s stare had her heart hammering in a way it hadn’t really since the seconds leading up to their very first kiss. Pulled in close enough to count every single lash, close enough to see the way Emma had failed to apply chapstick evenly over the seal of her lips, some parts smudged and some parts left untouched.

 

Regina’s knuckles whitened, her grip tightened over the curve of the sofa’s edge. Her head felt separate from the rest of her body, gently detached by the pressure of her wife’s heated palms. How many weeks had it been - how many months - since she’d experienced even this much affection?

 

“ _Em - mah_ ,” Her whisper was like a prayer tugged out the depths of her throat, causing her wife’s fingers to stroke up the slope of her scalp and grasp a fistful of black silk, slowly beckoning her to lean even further, their eyes closing, and the bump of their noses gently meeting.

 

_Ding Dong_

 

Their eyes snapped open just before their lips met. Regina froze up and watched the dimensions of sea grey eyes expand past their normal perimeter, their noses brushed against one another in a confused limbo. She could guess what her ex-wife was thinking; that this was divine intervention, agents of Fate driving the two of them apart. As much as she would have liked to scoff at the idea, her heart was already dropping from her chest into a puddle of acid churning inside her gut, eager to devour the fresh meat.

 

“Maybe they’ll go away,” She whispered, puffs of nervous breath painting the striking jawline.

 

Indeed, there was a pause, where the air stood still. Only their breath flowed, harmonizing in anticipation. Regina felt herself soften a little, her pulse slowing beneath the press of her wife’s fingers.

 

_Ding Dong_

 

This time, the jingle was followed by a knock on the door. Emma sank back down in the couch with a reluctant sigh, their faces no longer quite as close. “I’ll answer it,” She slid off the cushions, and rounded the furniture, squeezing the brunette’s arm in passing.

 

Regina followed a few steps behind as her ex-wife opened their home to a rush of cold wind. She was half expecting the rogue’s gallery of their collective, unfortunate dating life to be lined up outside the door. Emma had a bad habit of staying friends with her exes (any of them, she was sure, would have come sniffing around the moment they caught whiff of their troubles) and Regina’s had a bad habit of randomly coming back from the dead in increasingly creative and disturbing ways.

 

“ _Mom_ ,” A short exhalation of relief wrapped around the word, Regina watching as her ex-wife’s shoulders relaxed, her profile filling the archway, silver beams of light squeezing through the cracks of her casual blockade. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Yes, what _are_ you doing here?” Regina snapped, striding down the short steps that separated the dining area from the foyer.

 

Willfully misinterpreting the apprehension in her daughter’s face and snarl in her former step-mother’s voice as a welcome invitation, a beaming Snow White, raven lashes sprinkled with flecks of snow and bright pink cheeks pinched with cold, practically bounced forward and forced the two of them to part. “I wanted to drop off these gifts before the party tomorrow.” Her sack of presents swung off her shoulder, a hard edge protruding from the cloth accidentally striking against Regina’s kneecap. Scowling, the brunette followed after the intruder, her magic slamming the front door shut.

 

“You could have called,” She crossed her arms, pressing against the nervous pounding of her heart. “Sent a text, one of your winged vermin.”

 

“It’s winter,” Snow lightly admonished, only half listening as she opened the sack and flipped it over, a mountain’s worth of wrapped boxes spilling out of the opening and piling up beneath the bare tree. “They’ve all flown south.”

 

The presents knocked against the base of the tree. Some of the loosely attached cards buried beneath the rubble were severed from their taped bondage. Snow White shook out the sack until the last, tiniest wrapped bauble trickled out.

 

“Now, was that so inconvenient?” Snow glanced about the room, nodding approvingly. “Oh, ladies, everything looks so nice!”

 

To Regina’s immense frustration, the woman started moving about the house, admiring the decorations, the scents flowing from room to room, and how the silver light streamed through the immaculately clean windows, Emma slowly trailing after the brunette.

 

“Yeah, it was all Regina,” Her ex-wife’s voice followed Snow White into the kitchen.

 

“Oh, that doesn’t surprise me.”

 

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Snow White responded in an airy manner, their voices growing increasingly faint as the two of them sank deeper into the mansion.

 

Wrapping arms around herself, Regina stood alone in the living room, closing her eyes. She breathed in… breathed out… the muscles in her body still tense. The pressure of her wife’s lips was like a phantom imprint against her mouth. Swiping her tongue, Regina could almost catch the ghost of the promise nearly offered to her.

 

* * *

 

Jolted out of memory, Regina snapped her head in the direction of the doorknob jiggling. “Occupied!” She snapped.

 

There was an immediately ceasefire, and then her wife’s voice pressing against the door. “ _There_ you are. Have you been in here the whole night?”

 

“ _Miss Swan_ ,” Regina rose off the toilet seat, feeling the heat crawl up her neck. “Don’t be absurd.”

 

“Okay, okay, just checking. Didn’t know if there’s some food I should be avoiding.”

 

“If you _don’t mind_ ,” Regina huffed, but a _puff_ of smoke interrupted the beginning stages of her rant. White vapor ripped through the wood of the door and materialized directly behind the mayor, alcohol saturated breath against the curve of her ear. The heat rose from her neck to her cheeks.

 

“Where’ve you been the whole night?”

 

“Mingling.” Regina sucked in a breath, turning around to face the younger woman. “And you?”

 

“I’ve been looking for my wife.”

 

“Did you expect to find her in the vast chasm of Princess Snowflake’s breasts?” Regina quirked a dark brow at the surprise striking storm colored eyes. “Yeah, I saw you.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “She’s just a friend. Who I haven’t seen in years.”

 

“Why is she even here?”

 

“She hitched a ride with Ariel across portals.”

 

“Really?” The vein in her neck began to visibly pulsate. “I don’t recall issuing that overgrown trout a plus-one invitation.”

 

“Be nice,” Emma pronounced the words slowly, approaching her wife as if she were a grumpy predator. She trailed the tips of her fingers along the length of her wife’s long sleeved dress, the velvet texture hugging every curve of her wife’s petite figure.

 

“Don’t tell me how to be,” Regina snapped back without moving away, her dark eyes fixed determinedly on the sheriff’s face, and not on the touch solidifying around her forearm. “You had all of yesterday to try and talk to me if you really wanted to. And all of this morning.”

 

“I’m trying to talk to you now.”

 

“Well, now is not a good time. I have guests to take care of.”

 

Emma grasped both elbows and pulled the brunette a little closer, squeezing gently and peering into her eyes. “We were in the middle of something we never got to finish.”

 

“Yes, because you prioritized the inane ramblings of your mother over me.” Regina sucked on her teeth, immediately hearing the echo of her own mother’s scolding tone concerning the childish habit. “Don’t worry, not the first time a spouse has placed Snow White’s needs over mine.”

 

“C’mon,” Emma squeezed a little harder, her hands rising up the brunette’s upper arms, pulling her wife even closer. “Don’t lump me in with - she was here for all of five minutes, and then you disappeared on me to go get _ice_ for six fucking hours.”

 

“And in all that time, you didn’t call, didn’t text.”

 

“I thought you wanted some space.”

 

“No, that’s what I want _now_.” Regina’s eyes flickered down to pink lipstick, unevenly applied, the shade a little too bright to compliment the pale skin tone. “If you’ll excuse me.” Treachery came in the form of heartbeats, each one pumping harder and louder than the last, the queen taking small steps backwards with every step forward taken by the savior. Until her spine was pressed up against the bathroom door, and her wife was looming above her, caging her in.

 

“Just five minutes of your time, Madame Mayor.”

 

“Don’t get cute with me… sheriff.”

 

Emma bit down on her lower lip, fighting down a smile. “Yesterday, we were talking, _beginning_ to talk.”

 

“Yes, and only an hour ago, you and sparkly blue were having a cozy little chat of your own.”

 

“ _Regina_ ,” Her hands slid up long sleeves, velvet the color of red wine. “No woman in this entire world - in this entire realm, or any other - means as much to me as you do.” Her hands dropped from her wife’s arms to her waist, squeezing them hard. Watched black lashes flutter, and Regina release a low, shuddering breath.

 

“You made me sign those papers, and then you tried to kiss me.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Then, the slightest interruption and - ” Regina’s vision blurred. “The deal was, I sign the papers if you stay for the party. Well, party’s almost over. Christmas will soon be over. Are you - where will you be, then?”

 

The savior’s mouth parted, her steely gaze like a storm had struck ocean water. “Regina, I’ll - ”

 

“Hey!” The doorknob jiggled against the brunette’s side, swiftly accompanied by the rap of someone’s knuckles. “A line’s forming out here, hurry up!”

 

Mortified, Regina’s cheeks colored further, and she evaporated in a gust of purple smoke, leaving Emma grasping nothing but air. Hands dropping, she drew a breath and prepared to face the angry line outside.  _Now who's running away?_


End file.
